


Wonderful

by orphan_account



Series: Folie à Trois [6]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bridget visits Erica.Formidable / Formidable / Tu étais formidable / J’étais fort minable / Nous étions formidablesWonderful / Wonderful / You were wonderful / I was pathetic / We were wonderful





	Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from the song 'Formidable (ceci nést pas une leçon)' by Stromae.
> 
> Please note that Ao3 seems to have placed these out of order. The correct order is:  
> 1\. Half Past Five - Jenfurlee  
> 2\. Cracked Foundation - AsouSuzu  
> 3\. In My Blood - Jenfurlee  
> 4\. Gambles of the Heart - AsouSuzu  
> 5\. Dernière Danse - Jenfurlee  
> 6\. Wonderful - AsouSuzu

The rain was pouring down over Melbourne as Bridget Westfall drove up to a grey structure. The depressing colour of the building seemed to fit her mood, as did the dreary weather. She looked up at the sign.  _ Payne, Lynch and Pearson.  _ On any other day, she would have laughed. Walking up to the reception, a redheaded young girl greeted her: “Good morning! Can I help you?” Bridget forced herself to smile out of politeness.

“Hi. I have an appointment with Erica Pearson.”

“Who can I tell her has arrived?” Without hesitation, the blonde psychologist responded: “Francesca Doyle.” The receptionist picked up her phone and made a call. With a thousand-watt smile, she pointed down the hall. 

“Mrs. Pearson will see you in her office. Second door on your right.”

 

The handful of steps towards the closed door felt like a marathon, but one done on auto-pilot. Her limbs might as well have been connected with nuts and bolts at that moment. When Bridget knocked, a gentle voice told her: “Come in,” from the other side. She opened the door. Erica was standing behind her desk, her back turned towards the entrance. The lawyer spun around to greet her guest with a bright smile, which faltered the moment she realised who was standing in front of her.

“Bridget?”

The psychologist stepped forward on instinct and pressed her lips against the other woman’s. Erica’s hands landed on her shoulders and pushed her away.

“What the hell?!” Bridget shrugged.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” The other woman paused for a moment, before asking: “And?”

“I still don’t get it.”

 

Erica sighed.

“Why are you here, Westfall?” Venom dripped from the question, poisoning the air.

The psychologist shrugged once more, before finally explaining the reason behind her visit: “I give up. She’s yours.”

 

As she walked back out, it felt like a stone had been lifted off of her chest. Bridget thought of the note she had left on the dining room table. She could picture it in her mind, neat cursive, stating: “You’re free.”

 

She never saw the tree.

She never felt the crash.

She only saw Franky Doyle.

 

~Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for undertaking this journey with us.


End file.
